Sugar, We're Going Down Swinging
by deathbydreams
Summary: It was hard to hide the blush that colored John's face. They were incredibly close, and Sherlock did not look like he was moving anytime soon. Their eyes locked, noses nearly touching. "Sherlock."


**A/N: I do not own any of the characters in this story, nor do I have the rights to the song that it is based. It's a fanfic, please don't sue me.**

* * *

John, I need your help. -SH

What's up? -JW

I have a report due tomorrow... -SH

And? -JW

...I haven't done it. -SH

You had all break to do it. -JW

I've been busy. Please come over and help me? You know I'm not good with literature...It's half of my grade. -SH

Fine. I'll be right over. -JW

John sighed. Sherlock may have had a brain, but he did not have the motivation to go with it. Honestly, with that mind, he could have cured cancer by now. But no, Sherlock was too interested in sleeping the days away and watching mold grow. John pocketed his phone, grabbing his bag as he left the house. Sherlock's house was but a ten minute walk, so he found himself there soon enough.

The door opened before he even had the chance to knock. "Oh, thank God." Sherlock groaned, pulling John inside. "John, you have to help me, this paper is driving me crazy! Who the hell even cares about stupid old fairytales, anyway?" he ran a hand through his curls in exasperation. "Relax." John chuckled. "That's why I came." And, nestled in their own little corners, the two set off to work.

After an hour of research and writing, Sherlock deemed himself unable to concentrate. "This is hell." he muttered. "I could sure use a cup of tea..." he looked over at John wistfully.

"You brute." John muttered, getting up to go to the kitchen.

_Am I more than you bargained for yet? _

"Oh, come on, John. You know you make the best tea. Why let the talent go to waste?"

John snorted. "Said the world's laziest genius."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, before returning his attention back to the laptop screen.

"Here." John set the cup down beside his friend several minutes later. He plopped himself on the couch, searching through web pages. "What have you got so far?" That, in short, was how Sherlock Holmes passed his literature class, and how John Watson spent the last day of his break staying up until one in the morning.

"Guess what I just got handed back?" Sherlock asked John two weeks later.

"Your arse?" John joked, which earned him a shove.

"No. My fairytale paper." he handed John the paper. "I got an A."

"Thank you, John." John said sarcastically.

"God, John, you're a lifesaver." Sherlock threw his arm around the blond. "I could kiss you."

"Please don't." John laughed, though a different thought flickered in his mind.

"I'm serious. I owe you big-time. John Watson: my new hero." he brought up his hand, as though he were putting it into a headline.

_I've been dying to tell you anything you want to hear _

"Don't get ahead of yourself, mate." John shook his head. "Though I wouldn't mind if you said that again."

"Jooohn." Sherlock groaned through the phone. "You haven't been answering my texts."

"I've been busy." he said, annoyed. "What do you want?"

"I'm boored." he whined. "Come over."

"No, I have a test tomorrow." John replied stubbornly. "Go grow some mold or something."

"I've already used all of my petri dishes." he complained.

"Sorry, mate." John apologized. "Can't make it today."

The line went dead.

_Cause that's just who I am this week._

"I can't believe you talked me into this." John hissed.

"In order to prove that Moriarty performed a grave robbery, we need to visit the crime scene! If you don't like it, you can leave." he whisper-yelled.

"Okay, but why are you opening the casket?!"

"I need evidence." the taller of the two responded calmly.

"Sherlock-"

"What?" he asked impatiently. But then he knew what, because there were voices, getting louder. "Crap."

The building was on a hill, so as the two ran out, they found themselves plummeting towards the bottom. They fell over each other, circling until the reached the bottom. They were both dizzy, shaking with laughter. As John blinked the world into focus, he realized that Sherlock had landed on top of him. It was hard to hide the blush that colored John's face. They were incredibly close, and Sherlock did not look like he was moving anytime soon. Their eyes locked, noses nearly touching. "Sherlock." The word seemed to snap Sherlock out of his gaze, and he stood, offering John his hand.

_Lie in the grass, next to the mausoleum._

"No." Sherlock said abruptly.

"Oh, come on! It's just this one party! I've never asked you to come to one before-"

"Because you know I hate them." he interrupted.

"You'll have fun! I'll be there, and Victor, that guy from your Chemistry class will be there. Besides, you owe me one. Please?" he begged. Sherlock needed to get out and have some fun for a change.

Sherlock bit his lip (which John hadn't noticed at all), and contemplated it. "Fine." he said finally.

At this, John whooped, and Sherlock told him to stop acting like a monkey.

The party had been going well at Mike's place; the music was good, and everyone was having a good time. But then someone brought booze, and everyone was having a great time. All of the teenagers got tipsy, and John found that he had a little too much to drink. So he let himself upstairs, and opened the door to one of the rooms-oops. The couple seemed pretty occupied; he tried again. Mike's room was empty. He felt the world spinning a bit, since the room was so big. So he decided to crouch down in the closet until the dizziness wore off.

John had hardly been there a few minutes when another couple came in, and couldn't keep their hands off each other. He thought to leave, but that would look weird. Hang on...The couple was two guys...Victor was one of them, no surprise there. And the other...John felt like throwing up. It was Sherlock, who seemed glued to Victor's lips. Things got heated between them, and John found himself not wanting to look anymore, but still watching. It was like a scary movie.

_Oh, don't mind me I'm watching you two from the closet,_

John had no idea that Sherlock liked Victor. Hell, he had never thought that Sherlock was even gay. But here was the proof. And, god, it hurt. He didn't know why it hurt; he and Sherlock were just friends. But the anger he felt towards Victor told him otherwise. It should have been him.

_Wishing to be the friction in your jeans. Isn't it messed up how I'm just dying to be him?_

The party had been days ago, and John still hadn't spoken a word to Sherlock. About anything. How could he? "Oh, hey, Sherlock. I saw you blow Victor at Mike's party. I watched it happen. By the way, I have a crush on you." Yeah, right. The chances of Sherlock returning his feelings were zero. It would ruin their friendship, and Sherlock was clearly in favor of Victor. John just didn't know what to do.

But, since John was ever-so-lucky, Sherlock came to him first. "John." the teen acknowledged his friend with a smile. "Haven't seen you since Mike's party. Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah, it was okay." he lied. "What about you? How'd it feel to get out for a change?"

Sherlock's smile brightened. "Actually, it was the most fun I'd had in a long time."

John never thought that seeing Sherlock happy would make him feel so bad, but it did.

_I'm just a notch in your bedpost_

In the passing weeks, Sherlock was spending increasing amounts of time with Victor. John wanted to say something to Sherlock, but just couldn't bring himself to. What would he say? He was a better writer than Sherlock, but was still terrible with words. Maybe Sherlock didn't need him. Maybe John was just a bridge for Sherlock to get over, so that he could move on with his life. John thought this so often, that he began to recall it as fact.

_But you're just a line in a song_

"That is it." Sherlock had (literally) cornered John after Rugby practice. There was no escape; the lanky frame blocked all possible exits. "You haven't spoken to me for weeks. What is wrong with you?" His tone was angry, but his eyes were concerned.

"Nothing." John fake-laughed. "I dunno what you're talking about; I'm fine." the other did not look convinced."I've just been tired lately, honest. Just go hang out with Victor."

Sherlock would have been convinced, had it not been for the last sentence. "Victor?" he raised an eyebrow. "John, what the hell? Are you jealous of him or something?"

"What? No!" John laughed again. "What gave you that impression?"

"Only everything." Sherlock frowned. "If you don't tell me the truth right now, I'll turn your house into a petri dish." He wasn't kidding.

John looked at the floor. The words came out far slower than he expected. "At Mike's party, I was in the closet when you and Victor came in, and..." he couldn't bring himself to continue. But Sherlock's wide eyes showed that he understood.

"John, I-"

_We're going down, down in an earlier round_

"You know, it's one way to come out to your best friend, but definitely not the right one." John spat. "Why didn't you tell me that you were gay, or that you had a thing for Victor?"

"I was drunk-"

"Well, it sure doesn't seem that way!" he raised his voice, which shocked Sherlock.

_And Sugar, we're going down swinging_

"Why is it even such a big deal? You said that being gay doesn't matter-"

"You idiot! I don't care that you're gay! I care that you're with him-"

"What's wrong with Victor?" Sherlock spat, stepping away from John, challenging him.

John swallowed hard. "He's not me." It sounded so ridiculous after he said it. He just ran.

After John had run off, Sherlock had just stood there in shock. How could John like him? He hadn't seen the signs; but looking back at it all, he had missed the most obvious signs. "Idiot." he hit himself. It was how he ended up banging on John's door now. "John! I know you're in there! Open up!"

John heard the noise from his room, but he did not move from his bed. He lay there, sprawled out, feeling stupid and helpless. Mostly stupid, for falling in love with someone who could never love him back. But before he could think further, his bedroom door swung open, and the famous Holmes boy stood there.

"Picked the lock?" John asked blandly.

"Of course." Sherlock replied casually. Then, "You can't run from this."

John sighed, sitting up. "Look, can we just forget about this? You like Victor, and that's all there is to it."

"That is most certainly not all there is to it." Sherlock crossed his arms.

_I'll be your number one with a bullet_

Sherlock sighed. "Before we continue, I think you should hear my side of the story. At the party, you said you'd be right back, told me to loosen up, have a drink. So I had one, and then Victor came by. Had a lot more drinks. Recently, I'd begun to think that Victor was quite attractive, and, apparently, he felt the same way about me. So, we both got drunk, and you witnessed the result.

"After that experience, we both decided that we would remain friends instead of pursuing each other romantically." he held up a hand to stop John's incoming question. "The reason that I have been spending so much time with him is because the idiot needs so much help with his school work." he paused. "He's nothing special to me, John. You're the only person of significance."

John sat there in silence after Sherlock's testimony. "Should I be flattered?" he attempted a joke.

"Why, yes. A compliment from me is rare, after all." Sherlock joined in.

_A loaded god complex, cock it and pull it_

John's smile faltered. "Sherlock..."

Sherlock sat beside him on the bed. "Yes?"

"I-I just...You..." he faltered.

Sherlock chuckled. "Shut up." He pulled John into a kiss.


End file.
